My liver's a little weary. Of all the places where I thought I'd get wrapped up into alcohol-fueled parties, Syria would've probably been near last on my list. My host (Christophe) and his roommate (Pasqual) are seriously getting after it this week.
On the night of the 12th, Pasqual hosted a 'Russian Party' in the flat. One of the four or so languages that this man speaks exceptionally well is Russian (from having lived a few years in Ukraine), and he seems to have connected himself with quite a large posse of Russians in town—there must've been a good dozen or so there.
Three bottles of Russian vodka consumed by lots of shots (with each accompanied with an equally large toast/speech), three bottles of wine, and several liters of beer… divided amongst the seven or so of us drinking. Yeesh. It was a long night.
Then, last night, Christophe hosted the 'American Party', which was much smaller and (thankfully) focused more on food than drink. Fun, entertaining times—full of laughs and poking fun at cultural stereotypes.